Happy to be hOMe again. Conveniently, i feel that way almost anywhere i go… and yet there’s this familiar flavor of effortless contentment on some of my favorite patches of Asian soil. The static subsides…

Mozzies & the Matrix

Mahabodhi Stupa at Bodhgaya

Last month in Bodhgaya (where the Buddha formerly known as Prince Siddhartha, having spurned his 9-to-5, sat beneath the Bodhi tree posing for tourist paintings, many of which are still available today), i was fortunate enough to attend the 25th annual Nonviolent Mosquito Eviction Festival*, where i nearly mastered the gentle kung-fu technique; after a slow start, through diligent practice, i eventually succeeded in liberating well over 400 skeeters from the confines of my room without harm, and by the end i had accomplished the level of “Two Mosquitos in One Glass and Third in Hollow Fist,” which i’m told is pretty good for a rookie.

Mingyur Rinpoche, a rising star of the exile-born lamas (and now my main meditation teacher), offered very helpful elaborations on the practice, and also gave the transmission of the ancient, ear-whispered commentaries on the Matrix (“When Neo sees the electricity and stops the bullets, that’s a very good description of arriving at the first Bhumi“). And as if that weren’t auspicious enough, there were also 10,000+ monks, nuns, and laypeople making prayers for world peace and offering free medical treatments to thousands of impoverished Indian villagers, so the mozzies and i weren’t the only beneficiaries… 😉

[*CLARIFICATION — Since a few of you expressed confusion about how to discern the border between truth and humor in the story above, allow me to shed some light: There’s no such thing as a “mosquito eviction festival” — the Kagyu Monlam is a somber and inspiring traditional Buddhist gathering for world peace, which merely happens to take place in a land that is blessed with multitudes of mozzies on a mission to teach us compassion and forbearance — but the part about nonviolently removing over 400 of them from my hotel room is completely true. “It’s all in the wrist.” And, yes, Mingyur Rinpoche did refer to that scene from the Matrix in his explanation of what it’s like to begin to see reality as it is but, no, he didn’t actually comment on the mosquito kung-fu practice — nor would he have, since it’s double top secret! 😉 ]

On Noses, Ears, & Hearts

Here in Thailand, we have a brand new prime minister who is peeved at Thailand’s deaf population because of they name by which they refer to him in sign language. They make a fist over their faces, recreating his generous nose, which some have likened to a rose apple. Apparently, he doesn’t feel that this is a respectful way to address a prime minister, but the deaf community has responded that they’ve been calling him “Big Nose” since the ’90s, when he helmed the brutal crackdown against peaceful democracy and human rights activists, and it would be too confusing to Thailand’s deaf to change their language now.

I can sympathize, in a way, having lost all hearing in my right ear quite suddenly just over a year ago. After spending five years building what had grown to become a deeply rewarding career of music production, losing half my hearing (and thus the ability to mix in stereo) was a stunner for my little mind on several levels: physically, because the brain uses stereophonic hearing to place the body in space, to place the sounds we hear (e.g. car horns, sirens, shouting people) to evaluate whether we’re in danger or need to take quick action; emotionally, because so much of my life inspiration had been invested in musical gardening, some of the fruits of which were almost ripe to be shared; and practically, because the SF Bay Area is one of the most expensive places in the world to live and suddenly i found myself without income and without a key body function that had become (half) the foundation of my income. Naturally, i visited many holistic healing heroes (from whom i learned a lot) and even stooped to allopathy (trans-tympanic corticosteriod injection and other joys), but all the king’s horses couldn’t repair the nerve that no longer carries signals from right eardrum to brain.

My old friends at Tao Garden (holistic healing center here in Thailand) didn’t have any new input on the ear, but they did manage to get my platelets flowing freely. The clumpiness of my blood (which i wrote about a couple of years ago — “too much sticky”) may have been part of issue with the tissue. (Blood too thick + capillaries too thin = traffic jam; that’s one theory.) They took about 300ml of blood out, infused it with ozone (which made it maraschino red!), and let it drip back in. Now the dark field microscope shows all my blood cells have lots of elbow room. Not likely to bring the hearing back in my right ear, but perhaps it’ll help me keep it in the left (i.e. if there’s any truth to my neurotologists’ theory that my hearing loss may have been due, at least in part, to a vascular issue, such as poor circulation due to thick blood not circulating properly through narrow capillaries).

Otherwise, the only thing that’s happened so far that has brought any noticeable change in my hearing is, interestingly enough, trekking up and down the paddies in the Himalayas, on and around the spot of land near Kaimpong that we were offered for our retreat center. On the first day we visited the land, i was surprised that, on maybe five occasions, i distinctly heard my own voice in my right ear as i was talking, for just a fraction of a second. The same happened once or twice since then. So far, it happens only during physical exertion, so i intend to exert all the more.

Meanwhile, though — and perhaps until the nanobots can go in there and bionicize my nerve, i’m profoundly enjoying the many blessings of sudden single-sided sensorineural deafness (with the bonus of tinnitus and other strange stuff in my right ear). The gift of deeper compassion for others who suffer invisible-yet-challenging impairments. The creative challenges of learning to mix in mono. The wonders of watching the brain and body-mind grow new pathways, finding new ways to take care of bizniss. The quiet joy of simply noticing the resilience and tenacity of my quiet joy. My happy camper cup overfloweth now more than ever before. This effortless happiness in a time of challenging change could be read as an unsolicited endorsement of Buddha in ’08 [campaign slogan: “Regime change begins at OM”], but maybe it’s just a statistical fluke, a dimpledchad on both cheeks…

Speaking of OM, tomorrow we fly to Delhi and make our way up to Dharamshala, for a reunion with KhanaNirvana, Maynerd Doggie, and the Ocean of Wisdom. For 10 days, HH the Dalai Lama will share with us his incomparable insight into living a life of loving kindness and skillful action to benefit others. I feel so fortunate to have the opportunity to listen to his teachings again and then have a little time to retreat and reflect on them. Feeling humble and inspired as i prepare to spin a new cocoon…

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This past Tuesday, my neurotologist showed me the MRI pix of my brain. That in itself was (irrationally yet compellingly) worth the price of admission, but they also found a possible clue in the mystery of my sudden hearing loss: One of the MRI scans revealed a tiny, white, lit-up spot right on the edge of the labyrinth (the semi-circular canals that are the body’s gyroscope) in my right ear. My doc showed the slides to four other neurotologist colleagues, all of whom agreed unequivocally in their diagnosis: it’s clearly an unidentified lit-up phenomenon (ULP).

They ruled out imaging glitch (meaning it’s officially a “something”), leaving two most likely possibilities. Statistically more likely, it could be a simple inflammation from a recent viral infection in that area. The other possibility is that it could be a tiny (2 mm) acoustic neuroma (a benign tumor a.k.a. labyrinthine vestibular schwannoma), but it would be the rarest of the rare to find it in that particular location, right by the basketball hoops (though i wouldn’t be too surprised; as Glen told me, “Well, you are a person given to growing in unusual ways”).

What i really look like

They told me to get scanned again at the end of May and we’ll see if it has gone away or become a giant slobbering Miyazaki blob-monster. The thing is, i’m not sure their diagnosis would make much of a practical difference for me, since allopathic medicine would be my very, very last resort. Whether it’s a tumor or something else, the treatment modalities i’d try first are likely to be more or less the same: acupuncture, herbs, veggie juices, enzymes, meditation, good (mono) music, a nearly irrepressibly positive attitude, and a few extra laps in the ocean of love in which i’m so fortunate to live…

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Just now starting to get my energy back after a surreal week. Feels good to be able to walk right again (no more significant dizziness), and i drove for the first time since the hearing loss.

Despite rhythmic waves of worry (what might happen to my career as a music producer, and what might be happening in my skull?), i’m mostly chill, doing a fairly good job staying cheerful and taking care. Juicing lots of carrots (which, i recently learned, are as good for the hearing as they are for the eyes, and also have enzymes that help nerve regeneration).

I’m feeling grateful for meditation and some degree of perspective: at least i know it’s just an ear, and i still have love and joy and everything else (just mixed in mono).

This week is for tests (MRI and 2 more docs tomorrow) and spending most of the rest of my time resting and doing my best to stay really relaxed and not think too much.

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Yesterday around 4pm, i quite suddenly lost all hearing in my right ear. Within half an hour after the ear went silent, i became overwhelmingly dizzy and nauseous, then vomiting and shivering intensely and couldn’t walk without help (no balance).

Arley angelically came to the rescue and whisked me to the Oakland ER. The intake nurse blanched when she took my temperature: it was 91º (32.8ºC), which nobody there had ever seen in coastal California (the doc told me i was lucky to be alive, since my core temp had been at hypothermia levels for over two hours by the time he saw me). They took good care of me, placing me in a big heat balloon with an IV drip, and i started feeling a little better. Dara made it for the swing shift and they finally let me go home just after midnight.

None of the medical team at the ER had a clue what’s going on with me (you know you’re in trouble when the doctor tells you he’s been googling your symptoms), but they felt able to rule out stroke and a few other nasty things. Seems maybe something went wrong in my inner ear that has affected both my hearing and my balance. The doc said the only thing he found was a small “deposit” on my eardrum, whereupon i’m not sure which came first: the mind’s-eye movie of pigeon dropping defying the odds to land right in my ear, or the thought, “maybe it’s that Frankie Valli song that’s been stuck in my head ever since we saw “Jersey Boys.”

I still can’t hear at all on the right side, but at least the balance is returning (i’m still dizzy but can walk without help now). They say my hearing may come back or may not, and i’m doing my best to be relaxed about that, joking about becoming the world’s most celebrated monophonic music producer (though Brian Wilson might bump me to 2nd chair). I have an appointment with an ENT on Wednesday.

It was an edifying experience, to say the least, sharing the ER ward with a motley cast of Oakland characters. The big-hearted nurses were as grounded and comforting as some of the patients were, um, animated. But it was saddening to witness how understaffed, underfunded, and overcrowded a public hospital can be. There were around 200 patients waiting for attention in the ER lobby when i arrived, many of them in pretty bad shape, and i only got to jump the queue because the mystified triage nurse figured i might be even worse off than the rest of them… and still it took an eternity before a doctor came to see me. Ever tried to give a medical history and fill out insurance forms when you’re vomiting, shaking, and can’t speak?

Whatever may happen with my hearing, i’m grateful for this experience and the ways in which it put me more deeply in touch with the suffering of others, and with my own fragility and mortality.

All things impermanent and in constant flux. Life is precious and easily lost. I’d like to make the best of each mOMent…

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We plant trees. We come back later. Some have died, some are still standing… and some have spawned magical forests!

After five years away from my old hOMe of Dharamshala (a small but densely bustling town in the foothills of the Indian Himalayas, which serves as the exile home for H.H. the Dalai Lama and the Tibetan Government-in-Exile), and hearing how much it had been overbuilt since i left in 2001, i had long felt a bit apprehensive about returning (sad to watch a flower wilt). But when i got word that HH would be teaching for a week on the Path of the Bodhisattva (revisiting the topic of the first teaching of his that i had ever attended, back in ’95 — the one that inspired Scarth and me to abort our round-the-world journey midway and stay here, to study and serve), that was all i needed to hear. Two long days of uniquely Indian travel later, i checked into one of the very last rooms available in the teeming town, just seconds before the monsoon clouds dumped an ocean on the streets, driving everyone but the cows indoors.

The deluge died down by dinner, and a five-minute walk (climb) later, i was ordering a “Tao of Pao” and a hot apple cider at KhanaNirvana and catching up with our old friend Samdup. It was a quietly magical homecoming.

Samdup is a Tibetan refugee in his early 30s, a former medical student in Tibet, whom we hired as a waiter in around ’98. He worked his way up to the management and we eventually turned the place over to him to run as his own, with the understanding that he would also continue some of the service programs of the Dharamshala Earthville Institute (DEVI), which we had based at KN and which, for me, were KN’s raison d’etre. As i walked up the three flights of steps to our café in the clouds, i was intensely curious about what i’d find behind the teal doors…

When i reached the entrance, there was Samdup, chatting with a customer from behind the BuddhaBar (our juice and smoothie bar that serves as a sort of cockpit for the KN mothership). He hadn’t checked his email, so my arrival caught him by surprise, and the way his busybody face blossomed into smile was precious. It struck me immediately that, while he and i always got on well, this felt like the happiest we’d ever been to see each other.

He joined me at my favorite corner booth while i tucked into my tofu, and told me that the years had taught him a new respect and appreciation for what is special about KN/DEVI and the value of what had been our unorthodox approach to running it. And, looking around, i could see what he meant: he has been stewarding the KN/DEVI vision like the devoted curator of a living exhibit, taking pride in the works he inherited, and rearranging a few things but mostly going out of his way to keep KN true to its origins. Healthy hanging plants, four coats of paint to try to match our elusive grape-chocolate shade on the walls, and a trip to Delhi to buy more of the same simple yet elegant black crockery. He continues our tradition of using only natural ingredients, even when he could’ve lowered his costs by using inferior stuff. Still the best burrito in Asia, and still under a buck and a half. Ali Farka Toure, Nina Simone, Buena Vista Social Club, and the Neville Brothers still rock the stereo, along with some well-chosen new stuff, and the vibe remains alive.

But what gave me the greatest joy was seeing the way our baby is still serving the community under Samdup’s care. DEVI’s “Sunday@Sunset” speaker series still brings former Tibetan prisoners of conscience to tell their stories every week, with Samdup translating into English and delivering the pitch for volunteer support at the end, to a standing-room-only audience. Documentaries on Tibet and other relevant topics air every Thursday (followed, surreally, by the World Cup). And the weekly open mic and jam nights still pack the house with the most eclectic mix of music and poetry one could ever hope to find in one place (see Pico Iyer’s colorful description), and though performers vary as much as the elevation in the Himalayas outside, the crowd is still warm and enthusiastically supportive of everyone.

I had a bit of slightly naughty fun: sitting incognito with the other guests, watching their lights come on, and hearing what they had to say. “This is exactly what i need right now,” said one smiling traveler as she and a few friends took their seats on the cushions next to me, fresh in from HH’s teachings. Scarth and Dara, you’ll be pleased to know that i heard regulars describing various menu items to newcomers as “divine,” “to die for,” “best one in India,” “as good as it gets in samsara,” and the like. I was tickled to overhear that i’m not the only one who regards KN’s Ferderferburger as a fully realized mahasiddha in the realm of veggie burgers. 😉 (If i sound like i’m bragging about the successes of my precocious child, please forgive me: i’m just bubbling over with the joy of witnessing that something we put so much work into has not only survived but is still being enjoyed richly, years later.)

When several different people, not knowing i had cofounded the place, described KN to me as a kind of magical connection hub where one inexplicably has just the right experiences at just the right time, all i could do was smile… 🙂

Indeed, though of course some things have changed, there is still magic at KhanaNirvana. From where i sit today, what surprises me the most is how surprised i am — why am i surprised to see that the place amazes and inspires as much as it does? We and our many angelic friends put a lot of heart into creating something special for those who come, and Samdup and his new crew are doing the same, so of course people will feel the love.

Even during the years when we slept (too briefly) on the floor every night and woke up to work another relentless all-day shift, i always felt the fruits of this labor of love were worth every moment… so imagine my joy when i saw so much of that beauty still shining and all there was for me to do was breathe and enjoy it… 🙂

~~~

Speaking of return on investment, i also had the great joy of catching up with some of my former students and seeing they’re doing great things. One is now producing DVDs of the Dalai Lama’s teachings in Dharamshala and around India. The other has started a full-service computer service center and has compiled a 200-page computer education textbook, and he proudly told me that, in the spirit of my volunteering to teach him and help him start his computer classes, he is paying it forward by donating hundreds of copies to refugee training centers around India. He has also trained countless teachers, who have gone on to train others… and, for refugees, that training can make the difference between being able to support their families or not. I was happy to see his success and especially his kindness to others. It was also instructive to see how the humble seeds Dave and Don and i planted a decade ago have grown into a forest of opportunities that have empowered hundreds of refugees to support themselves, their families and communities, and their culture. I wouldn’t have expected the ripple effects of our small projects to extend and expand the way they have, and it’s encouraging to see how such small efforts can lead to greater results when the causes and conditions come together.

Likewise, i was elated to learn that many of KN’s alumni have gone on to manifest dreams of their own, and some of them are also paying it forward by serving others. Tashi still teaches English everywhere he goes — as a volunteer, with no motivation other than to serve. Lobsang is running a magazine. Jampa now runs a nonprofit community center and teaches yoga. Others are also teaching or pursuing higher studies.

I never doubted the value of dedicating most of a decade of my life to volunteer service (it felt deeply right, so i never spent much time questioning it), but now, seeing how our humble work has inspired others to pay it forward, it’s a choice that feels even better. I also feel such gratitude for all the myriad forms of support we received (at just the right time, again and again) from countless local and global friends. My heartfelt thanks to you all…

~~~

I banged out a couple of tunes on someone’s “Givson” guitar at KN’s open mic night and was amused to discover later that i had been spotted by a recruiter. Samdup’s friend Shodar, a talented young Amdowa impresario, told me he was putting on a show at the Tibetan Institute of Performing Arts (TIPA) and he wanted me to be the opening act. He also wasn’t ashamed to mention that he wanted an inji face on the poster to draw a bigger crowd. Well, he wasn’t joking: even though i only played two songs in the two-hour event, my face took up about 1/3rd of the poster… i was embarassed, but it didn’t seem to scare anyone away, as the hall was sold out to about 2000 exceptionally enthusiastic refugees from Amdo (the northeast region of Tibet) and a few of their neighbors from the other provinces. It might’ve been gratifying that they cheered wildly for my songs, except for the impression that it probably didn’t matter at all what i did — they were all so easily pleased. But i had a great time, bad sound notwithstanding, and i felt some personal satisfaction playing one of the first songs to be born in my old “cave” at Samadhi House, just a few steps up the road from TIPA, in the forest, over a decade ago. The rest of the night was a motley variety show of traditional Tibetan folk songs and dances (great!), Shodar and his friends doing hip-hop dancing (precious!), and a few singers doing the heartfelt karaoke thing that somehow enjoys the status of legitimate stage performance in much of Asia.

~~~

Ah, there’s more that could be said: deeply transformational retreat time, meetings with dear friends old and new, another offer of land for an Earthville campus (25 hilltop acres of monastery land in Sikkim this time), and other adventures, but my time online is about to expire, so i’ll wrap it up for now.

The bottom line is that, after my retreating and advancing, i feel great — on balance, probably better than ever, and in a way that feels a little more more stable by virtue of being a little less dependent on what’s happening around and inside me…. Let’s see how that holds up back in the Land of the Free-for-a-Fee… 🙂

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Sawadee khap from Doi Saket, where i’m planted once again in the Tao Garden, polishing my inner smile. 🙂

Yesterday was the first slow, leisurely day i’ve had since i left India two months ago… and now, after a whistle-stop tour of my world in Oakland (mostly my desk, truth be told), i’m finally catching up on missed breaths, and feeling grateful to be exactly where i am.

(In a heartbeat, it’s suddenly raining buckets here.)

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A week ago, in a jetlagged layover dream, i sat on the shore in Kowloon (notably more graffitti’d under Chinese administration), watching the clouds blow by in the mirrored windows of the feelgood Hong Kong skyscrapers, then took the subway into veggie paradise. Dinner in Bangkok a few hours later… why can’t i do this every day? 🙂

Like life, but somehow denser, Bangkok is always a mixed bag, but the mix keeps getting sweeter as i navigate more knowingly. This time was extra-special though, since the whole city threw a double birthday party for the Buddha and me. I wondered how we should celebrate, and he suggested we hit the streets early and find some folks who could use a little love. The first person i invited to our heart party was a 50-something leper propped up against the Skytrain stairwell. I bought him a few meals, but i got the impression that the smiles were even more nourishing to him, by the way he lit up. Likewise for all the other partygoers i recruited across the city. May those candles stay alight…

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Spent most of the last week within a few blocks of my beloved Hoan Kiem Lake in Hanoi. Yes, the sequel! We’ve returned for another round of recording and filming, and oh am i glad we did!

The reunion with our Vietnamese musical-kung fu family was very sweet — and somehow even warmer than before. No committees, no toasts, just love and music. Felt like coming home to family. We recorded in a well-appointed home studio run by a new friend, Ho Hoai Anh, who is a very popular musician in his own right but, like his elder Khanh, is very down-to-earth and can’t be bothered with protocol. Hoai Anh was a godsend as a second engineer, helping to keep us all in sync with graceful technical and cultural translation. The result is a solid hour of good performances, cleanly captured, and i can’t wait to get home and mix them.

My only regret is that everything went so deliciously smoothly that i have no fodder for drama to keep y’all cliffhung this time, so i guess your entertainment will have to come from the two CDs we’ll be releasing in September. 🙂

On the inner plane, the big news in Hanoi was my reunion with Hoan Kiem Lake. Saw familiar faces there — others who, like me, seem drawn to her, sit facing her, in silence. The old folks, doing what matters most. Young lovers, in pairs and alone, longing. The tai-chi ladies with their fans and swords. The kung-fu dudes whacking their wrists and forearms against the poles to toughen themselves up, and eyeballing the growth of each other’s muscles. A woman in her 60s, with a condition that renders her helpless as an infant, being held by her husband or brother, who every day brings her to the lake, lovingly feeds her on the bench, then takes her walking Butoh-slowly around the water.

I don’t know how to explain, except to say that, somehow, the spirit of that lake is one of my best friends in this world. Doing my morning chi kung with her, strolling around her, or just sitting by her banks, i feel more like me. Kinda wish i could take her home in a bottle, but she definitely lives in my heart.

Meanwhile, here at Tao Garden, there’s nowhere to go but in and nothing to do but bloom. Returning after several intense months, i’m awestruck by the dramatic non-impact of peace… My arrival here was a meteor hitting the ocean with no splash… just a gentle rippling, a rustle in the leaves, and i’m here, floating…

I notice that when i’m so deeply peaceful i don’t need to eat much. The food here is divine, but i feel so nourished by everything else around me that my (famously enormous) appetite for gourmet Asian vegan grub is quickly satisfied, despite the fact that i’m quite physically active. This is in sharp contrast with my life in the city, where i’m often moving only my eyes and fingers (and the hard drive in my head) yet feeling ravenous, insatiable.

Looking deeper into these contrasts, while my perspective is fresh, i am humbled in recognition of the undeniable power of place. I could be doing the same thing with the same attitude and intention in a dozen different places and have a dozen utterly different experiences. Just being in a city makes me hungry, even when by all appearances i’m not doing much… but in the light of contrast here i see the truth is i am doing a lot when i’m in the city, just being there: my system is being bombarded with myriad stimuli, and of course it’s going to react, and those reactions burn energy. But, as Marshall McLuhan aptly put it, “whoever it was discovered water, you can be sure it wasn’t a fish.” We become desensitized to what is all around us, to the point where even some of the biggest influences on us can become invisible.

It seems i’m getting a tiny bit better at it. Though i certainly didn’t arrive at Tao Garden this time in the same great shape i was in when i left it last October, i clearly did arrive here in much better shape than when i arrived last time. That’s something.

But, inevitably, i have to ask: why leave? I’m feeling more motivated than ever to build community in nature. It just works.

Yo ho ho, a village life for me.

Everyone please go outside. 🙂

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Speaking of the village life, a week from now i will transplant my retreat from the manicured majesty of Tao Garden to the fertile terraced slopes of Sikkim. I’ll be in India till mid-July, doing a combination of creative and meditative retreating and project-related advancing, starting with the former and ramping up to the latter. At some point (dates still in the air), i’ll be heading back to the land in the West Bengal Hills to meet with Ani Sonam La, her family, and our South African friends to take the next steps on our project there.

For the last week of May and most of June, i’ll be very, very far from the Internet (yes, there are still a few places it doesn’t reach), so if you don’t hear from me again till July (which is likely), well, no news is very, very good news for this flower who blooms in stillness.